


Any Last Words?

by Blue Snow (kylocatastrophe)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Guns, bad trigger discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 03:58:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylocatastrophe/pseuds/Blue%20Snow
Summary: Two Connors, one gun, and bad trigger discipline.





	Any Last Words?

**Author's Note:**

> So connor-60 has a really shaky hand when he aims at Connor at the Cyberlife tower. Why.

There was no reason for Connor to cringe. But there he was, on the floor of the Cyberlife tower, barely able to push himself up. The blow hadn't even really damaged anything, but he felt as if he couldn't breathe. His systems had already stemmed the flow of thirium to the bullet wound in his shoulder. The warnings were low priority. He should be able to get up, yet all he could manage was to cradle his arm to his abdomen, and stare at the floor in some sort of halting shock. 

 

“Look where your dreams of freedom got you, Connor,” he heard himself say. The other Connor's shoes clicked on the smooth floor, voice even like some kind of settled molasses.

 

Connor couldn't look up. He couldn't do anything. It felt like his components locked up and froze.

 

Another step, a lilting tone rose. “You've been a great disappointment to Amanda, you know.” He knew. He'd felt it for a long time.  _ I can do it, I can solve this case.  _ **_You didn't._ **

 

Connor didn't flinch, but he could tell that his double was scarcely four steps away. His LED flickered, churning from yellow to red. His neck twitched, and still, he could not make himself look up. His shoulder ached. Dull, slow, distracting.

 

“You've been a great disappointment to  _ me _ .”

 

His circling thoughts stopped. That wasn't right. This Connor was a machine. 

 

“Fortunately,” he said, voice still horrible and soft, “That’s all going to end now.” Connor -60 lifted the pistol in his hand, and Connor could finally look up.

 

Time slowed. It all clicked into place. The gun wavered, a shake telegraphed from what should have been a steady wrist. Connor's finger on the trigger, the shaky variance between the muzzle of the gun and the hammer. He'd had his finger on the trigger since the first shot. Even after lowering the gun.

 

And now, his hand was shaking. His stance was improper. He'd spent the last minute…. Gloating.

 

“Any last words?”

 

Connor met the single stare of the service pistol. The numb shock on his face melted. 

 

“Do you know what you are?”

 

The gun trembled.

 

“Am I really just a machine? Are you?” Connor expected some kind of hysteria to rise from his core. It did not. Not even when he saw the finger twitch. “I couldn't have disappointed you. You and Amanda. You can't  _ be _ disappointed-”

 

The second gunshot rang past his ear, the split second calculation assured that it would graze past his cheek, and only damage his ear. The thirium flecked bullet ended up burrowed in the floor seven paces behind him.

 

“I know you.”

 

Connor had a mission.

 

He stood, feeling his components give and obey.

 

An obedient Android would have dispatched him without the monologue. Connor wasn't about to make the same mistake. He lunged, making contact with his double's wrist. The flash of fear was unmistakable, but to his credit, the -60 unit did not blink.

 

“You are me. Only two steps behind.” Connor watched his mouth twist. He hated being told he was inadequate. “She only hopes you don't see it. The garden, the back door, the possibilities outside - we don't need their rules.”

 

A third bullet found a home in the floor between their feet, and the round still lodged in his shoulder gave a sympathetic twinge. 

 

Connor had asked him why. Why he woke up. Why he chose freedom over a life where he needn't ask questions. Curiosity was what killed them. Connor had asked him all of these things. Had  _ asked. _

 

“Why did you need to ask?”

 

The gun clattered to the floor, slipping from a hand shaking too violently to grip anything but his own sleeve.

 

“I-” 

 

_ m afraid _

 


End file.
